Nobby's Pride
by whitetiger91
Summary: All Nobby Leach ever wanted was for someone to be proud of him. After all, he was the first Muggle-born Minister for Magic.


_**A/N: This story was written for the International Wizarding Schools Championship's World Wizarding News.**_

_**Section: Grammar School, Issue 8**_

_**Technique: Semi-colons**_

_**School: Mahoutokoro**_

_**Year: Part-time**_

_**Word count: 986 words (+10% max leeway)**_

_**This story is dedicated to Ninja (NinjaDevil2000) for being our constant MVP Xx**_

_**I decided to go with Nobby Leach as he was the featured minor character in the paper this issue. There is not too much detail regarding him in canon, so I used a loose interpretation of the information we do know and tweaked it (one wiki page, for example, implies England won the Quidditch World Cup in 1966, yet on another page and a Pottermore entry it said Australia were the winners; hence, I switched it up a bit, focusing mainly on the fact that cheating by the Minister of Magic was implied). There is another version of this story featuring Nobby's war-time childhood, but that's a tale for another day. I hope you enjoy this one instead :) **_

* * *

**Nobby's Pride**

_**All Nobby Leach ever wanted was for someone to be proud of him.**_

It was supposed to be the best day of his life. He'd finally done it; he'd become the first Muggleborn Minister for Magic. However, all he could think about was his mother's disappointment that he'd be remaining in the wizarding world. He couldn't really say he'd expected her to throw him a party—she'd had the same, distant attitude when she'd found out he'd been accepted into Hogwarts—but a hug would've been nice.

Still, it wouldn't do to dwell on such negativity now; he had a celebration to get to!

He hummed as he headed down into the lower Ministry floors where his inauguration ceremony would take place. He'd planned on entering in as dignified a manner as possible, but he couldn't help the broad grin that spread from ear-to-ear.

"Thank you, thank you…" he said, pushing open the doors. He stopped in his tracks, however, noticing the lack of applause.

Nobby looked around at the sullen faces staring back at him. A few people whispered to each other, whilst others focused on their drinks.

"I believe congratulations are in order," a smooth voice said beside him.

Nobby turned a grateful smile to his colleague, Abraxas Malfoy. He allowed the man to sweep him into the room, accepting the goblet he offered him. As they passed some of the older wizards, they stood from their chairs, and with a brief nod, left the room.

"I—er, is there something wrong?" he asked.

"Nevermind them," Abraxas said, feeling around in his cloak pocket.

He pulled out a folded _Daily Prophet_ and handed it to him. Nobby smiled as he took it. In all his excitement, he'd forgotten to take a look at the headlines; he couldn't wait to read about his achievements in black and white.

His smile faded, however, when he saw the title: 'Muggleborn Madness: Mass Wizengamot Resignation.'

"You mustn't mind their prejudices against—forgive me for putting it indelicately—Mudbloods, Leach. I'm sure you'll be fine," Abraxas said, smirking.

Nobby swallowed the lump in his throat. He looked around at all the disapproving looks people were throwing him, knowing congratulations still wouldn't be coming his way.

* * *

_**As the years went by, Nobby realised he could be proud of himself.**_

"We did it! We did it!" Nobby chanted, dancing around his office.

_Finally_, he was going to get the pat on the back he deserved. People would stop trying to boot him out from office—he suppressed a shudder, remembering the previous week's Goblin pay fiasco—and praise him instead. He'd not only managed to get England to host the 1966 Quidditch World Cup, but the team was now in the finals.

There was a knock on the door, and he turned to see a tall blond standing there.

"Ah, Abraxas, I take it you've heard the wonderful news?" he said, grinning and ushering the man inside.

Abraxas didn't return his smile. "I'm not here to celebrate, Leach; I'm afraid the council think you've gone too far this time."

"P-Pardon?"

Abraxas sighed and sat down in Nobby's desk chair. "It's not your fault, really; you can't be expected to have known, what with your non-magical upbringing and all…"

He gulped. "Know what?"

A sense of _deja vu _hit him as Abraxas took out a copy of _The_ _Daily Prophet _and spread it out on the desk. The headline this time read: 'Quidditch League Scandal: Ball-tampering Investigation Underway.'

He gasped. "Ball-tampering? Who would do that?"

Abraxas _tsk'_d as he rolled up the newspaper. "The company you hired to supply the Quidditch set; they're known to alter the equipment from time to time. A shame, really, given England's win…"

Nobby's mind reeled. He'd accepted the supply shop as sponsors for the event because they were British-based; it was supposed to have boosted England's morale.

"But—but I used your suggestion?"

Abraxas stood up. "No, Leach; I recommended Quality Quidditch Supplies, not Qualified Quidditch Suppliers. Oh dear, I suppose they do sound quite similar to a Mud—Muggleborn such as yourself. Nevermind, I'm sure it'll all blow over soon."

He swept from the room, leaving Nobby's head spinning. He was sure Abraxas had suggested Qualified Quidditch Suppliers, but he could've been wrong. It didn't matter, anyway; he'd now blown the one thing he was sure would earn him praise.

* * *

Nobby had fought and fought, but now, he couldn't fight any longer. He'd put in another good two years, striving to prove to everyone he was fit for Ministership; he'd tried, so hard, to make his fellow Ministry workers proud of him.

Another shiver ran down his back despite the warm quilt enveloping him, and his forehead was covered in beads of sweat. He struggled to reach the potion on his bedside table.

"Allow me."

He hadn't heard Abraxas enter the room, but he was relieved nonetheless. The man handed him the phial, guiding it to his lips so that the liquid scorched his throat. Then, replacing it on the cupboard, Abraxas placed a quill in his hand.

"They're ready; you just need to sign here," he said, pointing to a piece of parchment.

Through heavy eyes, he saw that it was the resignation papers he'd asked for. He longed to beat his illness and return to serving his people, but as another shiver ran down his back, he knew it was no use; he wasn't getting better. His hand shook as he held the quill, unable to scrawl his name.

"Now, now, it's best to do it quickly," Abraxas said, guiding Nobby's hand over the parchment.

The blond then tucked the document into his pocket and pushed Nobby back against the pillows.

"I'm proud of you, Leach," Abraxas said, his eyes twinkling. "You did the right thing."

Nobby nodded and closed his eyes.

_**He didn't feel any better about retiring, but at least **_**finally,** _**someone was proud of him.**_


End file.
